


Let Those Feelings to the Surface

by some_good_clean_fun



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Forgive Me, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Politics, Roleplay, for I have gone to the circus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_good_clean_fun/pseuds/some_good_clean_fun
Summary: The party’s gone on longer than Drew had hoped. Danny’s still in character.
Relationships: Danny Gonzalez/Drew Gooden, Drew Gooden/Ned Flames
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Let Those Feelings to the Surface

The party’s gone on longer than Drew had hoped. He’s exhausted down to his very bones; the ones inside, not those on prominent display on his skeleton costume. And he wants to go home. But it doesn’t look like that’s on the cards in the near future. For one thing, Drew’s staying in Chicago for the night. For another, the party’s being held where he’s staying.

Danny’s still in character. It fucking riles Drew up, to see Ned Flames standing in the living room in his stupid Duck Dynasty shirt, cap facing backwards, sunglasses on even though the lights are dim, and that hideous bargain basement goatee. Danny hasn’t bothered with the plumpers, but he is wearing four layers to round him out a little more, has the long socks and cargo camo shorts. Even though he decided not to bother for the song and experiment, he’s adopted an Ohioan accent and has literally just said, “I’ve got a hankerin’ for those chips where the pop’s at.”

Danny – no, it’s _Ned_ \-- saunters toward Drew like he has all the time in the world, cocky machismo swagger and a fistful of Yuengling. Drew takes the bowl of tortilla chips and clutches it to his chest. He’s not sure why. For attention or retribution, the odds are even. Doesn’t stop Ned, though. He walks straight up to Drew, reaches into the bowl and takes a handful of chips, eats them with crunching menace.

He stares Drew down, or at least, that’s the impression Drew’s getting. All he can see is his own reflection.

“What prickly porcupine paraded up your pants?” 

“I’m fine,” Drew lies. 

Ned raises an eyebrow. “Look awful sour for someone who’s fine.”

“How can you even tell? Not much expression in a skull.”

“Usually is a great big grin.”

“I’m a self-aware skeleton. I know I’m dead and I refuse to smile to alleviate others’ discomfort.”

Ned reaches up and pushes Drew’s shoulder, leans in with a conspiratorial half-smile. “Think you could spare a bone?”

Drew sighs so deep the bowl of chips shakes. “No, I need all the ones I’ve got.”

The smile gets wider. “Want one extra?”

“I don’t fuck with clowns,” Drew counters.

Ned shrugs, grabs another handful of chips and saunters back to his previous group of friends and Drew is hoping that beneath the character-work of false bravado and douchebaggery, Danny’s not offended. It isn’t that he’s vehemently opposed to the idea of hooking up, even hooking up while his partner looks _like that_ , just not with everyone else in the house. 

An hour later, the other guests begin to leave. Drew hasn’t stayed in the corner the entire time, he’s not that level of wallflower, but he hasn’t interacted with Ned either. Felt his eyes on him, though, piercing the side of his face, the back of his head. Yet whenever Drew would turn around, he’d be looking in another direction. 

Drew starts tidying things up, taking serving dishes into the kitchen, washing out beer bottles to put them in the recycling bin. He’s taken off his mask, has peeled down the top half of his costume so the sleeves won’t get wet.

When he’s at the sink, two strong arms envelop his waist, a bearded chin rests on the top of his spine, and soft lips kiss his neck. 

“Tell me why I make you nervous,” Ned murmurs, pressing another kiss to the tender side of Drew’s neck. 

“Nervous isn’t the word I’d use,” Drew says. “Frustrated, infuriated…”

“Intoxicated?”

Drew spins around. “You represent everything I hate.”

“You hate a guy who’s just out here for the hustle? TikTok wasn’t around when I was a kid. You blame me for being older than the usual star?”

“I don’t care about that,” Drew says. He lifts at the Duck Dynasty shirt. “I hate you for this and what it says about your views.”

“TikTok views?”

“World views. I only need to take one look at you to know you’re the kind of idiot who says he doesn’t care about politics, but you watch Fox every night and think the President’s a great guy.”

“Hey, now, you’re putting words into my mouth,” Ned says. “Sometimes, I watch A&E.”

“You’re a short-sighted moron who thinks he’s better than everyone else but somehow, someway has never had even an ounce of privilege.”

“And you’re just a whiny lil bitch.”

Drew pushes Ned against the kitchen counter, snarls, “Not so little.”

Ned smiles, feral-like, rolls his shirt sleeves up, shows off his biceps and triceps. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re little where it counts.”

Drew pulls Ned closer by the loops of his cargo camo shorts, crashes them together in a ferocious kiss. The sunglasses get in the way, so he takes a breath and slides them up. Drew kisses Ned with none of the gentle softness he’s shown Danny. His kisses are bruising, controlling and deep, and he clutches onto Ned’s hips with tight fingers. 

They’re both hard. Drew, painfully so. Rather than attend to that, though, he rubs Ned through his shorts, working the bulge of his dick until it’s straining the material. 

Between one breath and the next, Ned moans out a, ‘Jesus,’ and that spurs Drew to slow his kisses down, but add even more heat. He’s getting the beginnings of a beard-burn, but he couldn’t care less. He knocks Ned’s hat off and curls one hand into his hair, gripping hard, taking hold. It feels good, to clutch the strands of sweaty hair between his fingers, to tug and know he’s causing a pinprick of pain.

Ned pulls away, red in the face and hazy-eyed.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’tcha?” Ned says, chucking Drew under the chin, which just about makes him go apoplectic. 

“You’re a Grade-A+++ asshole,” Drew growls. 

He slides his free hand up under Ned’s two shirts and two tank tops, rubs at the tender skin of his abs. He huffs out a laugh when the muscle jumps under his touch and Ned’s hand grasps the costume material gathered around his hips. It doesn’t take long to get him shirtless, to suck a series of hickies from his neck to his navel, anchoring him against the counter. 

Not that Ned’s complaining. He has his hand on Drew’s head and keeps mumbling things like, “Yeah, darlin’, there you go, that’s it.”

Drew bites into the soft meat of his hip, licks the teeth marks as Ned hisses. He tastes salty-sweet and smells of beer and perspiration.

“You think you can get away with that?” Ned asks, a darkness in his eyes that hasn’t been there before.

“Who’s gonna stop me?”

One second Drew’s kneeling, the next he’s on the ground. He’s pretty sure he was knocked backward by a well-placed foot. Not kicked so much as coerced. It is a foot, too. Ned must have gotten rid of the crocs and socks before coming into the kitchen. Almost like this entire encounter has been premeditated. Ned’s straddling his upper torso, knees on either side of Drew’s body, his expression possessive. 

“You’ve been playin’ with me, but I’m the one with all the tricks.”

Ned unzips his shorts, drags his underwear under his sizeable cock. It’s thick and almost crimson at the tip, hard enough it’s standing upright toward his belly before he takes it in hand and aims it at Drew’s face. 

If Drew really wanted, he could buck up and dislodge him. If he had any reservations at all, he could push Ned back with one hand. But he’s perfectly happy with Ned’s position and he shows him so by holding onto his waist, gazing up at him as he strips his cock with well-practiced ease. 

“Not so mouthy now, are you, sweet thing?” Ned asks after he’s been stroking for a while and all Drew’s done is watch, entranced.

“I could be. If you want?” Drew offers, so turned on he feels like he’s melting from the inside out. 

There’s a momentary drop in character, shock etching Danny’s face as he bites his lower lip. “Okay,” he says quietly, knee walking closer as Drew raises up onto his elbows.

Drew gazes as he sucks his cock down, tries to bring himself back into his earlier mental state when all he wanted was to torment this person he hates with every fiber of his being, but since the only things remaining of that character are the shorts and the facial hair, it’s difficult. He’s all too aware that it’s Danny he’s sucking down, Danny who’s making those breathy noises, Danny who’s scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. 

He licks around the head of his cock, takes him in inch by slow inch. His gag reflex isn’t as strong as it used to be and he’s able to take a good amount before he has to slide off again. His licks his lips before taking him in again, nudges the tip of Danny’s cock with his tongue. Danny starts to flex his hips, his muscles drawing taut. 

“Drew. _Drew_ , I’m gonna --” Danny whimpers, so Drew pulls off and scrunches his eyes shut as Danny jets all over his nose and forehead; long, warm jets that drip incrementally down his face. 

Danny collapses to the side, his chest rising up and falling down rapidly, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Drew takes himself in hand and brings himself off in five quick strokes, his balls tightening before he’s even laid a finger on his dick. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you really hate this costume, were you?” Danny intones a few minutes later, as they lie on his tiled floor.

“It’s a thin line between love and hate,” Drew responds. “I hate it for what it is, but I kind of love it on you.”


End file.
